Shine On You Crazy Diamond
by ringbearers-gaurdian
Summary: Joint Written. Read authors note. They said Sheldon Jeffrey Sands had crashed and burned, and that was it. They didn't realize that he was still spiraling downward, at dangerous rate. Can someone reach him before it's to late and he destorys his life?
1. In the Flesh

Authors' Note: This is ajoint work. Two writers, myself and my long time, close friend and fellow writer,Washie Demon. This is something she and I have been tossing back and forth for some time, and decided now would be as good asanytime to go for it. This story isEXTREMLY dark. It conisides with my"Blood" series, and is pre-movie. It also uses, and is inspired by,**Pink Floyd**'s two albums, **The Wall** and **Wish You Were Here**

Disclaimer: We do not own Sheldon Jeffrey Sands,or any of Pink Floyd's lyrics.They belong, very respectedly, to their creators, and we love them to much to try and take credit for such creations.But we're just crazy enough to combine the two. >:)

* * *

He'd come in when no one had heard him. And he stood where no one could see him. They were all laughing, enjoying the free time they had for the few moments they had it. They didn't notice him. They wouldn't have. He stood there silently, some distance from them. Pain rattled through him at every moment one of them laughed at something another had said. He longed more then anything to be that table with them. Wrapping his arms around his self, as if to ward of an unfelt chill, he listened to them.

_Now There's A Look In Your Eyes, Like Black Holes in the Sky_

He didn't expect the all to comfortable subject they were discusing, to take the serious note it did, or that he'd be the topic of choice. And he was lost between hating them and feeling relieved that some one still thought about him.

Jenna tapped her ashes off her cigarette, looking around the break table at the nightshift group she was with, this night in the CIA offices. "Something has occurred to me." She said in her soft voice.

Sammy looked up from the magazine he was flipping through, to glance at the officer who sometimes worked by their side. "What's that, Jen?"

Jenna drew a long drag on her cigarette, then glanced over at Cerise who had become lost in thought. "It's not the same...with out him." She said.

Cerise looked over at her. Jenna could see that the redhead wanted to say something, but couldn't seem to get the words to leave her mouth.

"He just lost it..." Sarah muttered from her spot, staring at the table top.

"A person just doesn't loose it." Sammy muttered, going back to flipping through his maganzine. "He had his reasons for doing it..."

Sarah gave Sammy a vicious look. "Some one needs a REASON now to have a mental break down!" Her tone was bitter and hard.

Sammy looked up at her, silent for a moment. He chose his words carefully. "He'd been spiraling down ward for awhile, Sarah, and you know it."

Sarah rolled her eyes, lighting a cigarette angrily. "He didn't just CHOSE to go fucking crazy! He didn't CHOSE to end up the way he has!" She snapped.

"Since when did you stand up for him, so passionately, Sarah?" Jenna asked, giving the younger woman a curious look.

"You haven't worked with him as much as I have." Sarah bit back.

Jenna rolled her eyes. "Sarah, every single employ in this place, be they agent, analyst, linguist, ect.ect. knows for a fucking fact, that, that man was ALWAYS crazy. And it was just a matter of time before he cracked completely under the pressure." She glanced in Cerise's direction, as she said this.

But the British redhead's green eyes were on the window to the darkness of the night, and she said nothing still.

"The thing that gets me," Sammy said, closing his magazine, "Is I would have expected him to...go out with a bang, shall we say. That's just his style."

"I agree with you, Sam." Jenna said with a nod, snuffing out her cigarette butt. "I would have expected him to make a show out it, ya know. One last Fuck You, before he crashed and burned. Not that terribly subtle way he went out..."

"Fuck you, Jenna! You're acting like he's dead!" Sarah snapped, with a white hot glare.

Jenna flipped her off, rolling her eyes. "Fuck yourself, Sarah. But what I'm saying is TRUE. Even YOU must admit that for him to do it the way he did, was extremely subtle, to the man we knew and worked with." Jenna fired back.

Sarah grabbed Sammy's magazine and flung it at Jenna. "It wasn't enough for him to overdose! It wasn't enough of him to try and slit his wrists! It's not enough that he WANTED to take that jump, to pull a complete Tom Petty Free Fall!"

Jenna sneered. "Subtle, for a man of his imagination!"

They were suddenly silenced when Cerise came ot her feet, pushing her chair from behind her, with such force that it feel over. She came down on the table, her hands shaking the cups of coffee and the ash tray as they slammed down before her, and she leaned towards all three of them. "He was subtle, because he was in PAIN!" She hissed through clenched teeth. "A pain not one of you can EVEN begin to understand."

She moved away from the table with a disgusted look. Jenna went to open her mouth to retort, when Sammy placed a hand on her arm, silencing her. They watched Cerise pace in an aggravated way.

Then Sammy said softly. "Cerise, darlin' we know you're in a bad spot right now, trying to deal with this. Don't take it out on Jenna like this, it's not helping..."

"Shut the fuck up, Sammy!" Cerise snapped, her tone inching towards yelling. "You don't know and you don't understand! You don't know what he's going through, and you don't understand his pain!"

"And you do!" Jenna asked hotly, fighting the urge to get to her feet.

"I understand FAR better then you three fucking prats do!" Cerise sneered, glaring dangerously.

"It's OVER Cerise! Even if he's not locked up in some mental hospital somewhere, he's lost his career here! They're not going to take him back with a head like that!" Jenna spat back.

Cerise opened her mouth to say something, but the only sound that came out of her mouth was a gasp, and her eyes widen in surprise. The other three heard acouple of shuffling footsteps, and they turned. He stood there, pale and drawn. T-shirt and jeans looking as if they'd seen better days. The look of pain and confusion in his eyes, hurt Sammy and Sarah, and caused Jenna to regret the things she'd said.

He looked as if he was about to speak. But he didn't open his mouth. Then he shook his head, turning away from them, and they heard him mutter, "Mother, did it need to be so high...?" as he left the room.

Sammy lept from his chair, Cerise behind him as they hurried towards the door. "Sheldon, wait!" Cerise called out, but he didn't stop. "Jeff!" Sammy tried to get his attention.

But Sheldon Jeffrey Sands kept walking, and disappeared from their sights. And what he hoped, was their lives. So much for happy thoughts.

"Oh god..." Sarah moaned, coming up behind Sammy and Cerise, looking into the deserted hall. "We've got to find him! Before he hurts himself!" She said despertly to them.

"Or someone else..." Jenna muttered, having no idea how much her words would soon be effecting them all.


	2. The Thin Ice

Authors' Note: We did warn you it was dark. ;) We're a bit on a roll tonight, so we give you Chapter Two. Enjoy.

* * *

The night air was cold, as he walked down the empty street. His arms still wrapped around himself, he kept walking. Trying to ignore the things going through his head. But it was a fight he couldn't win. Slowly he let them all take hold of his mind.

"They don't care." The voice muttered. Sands looked this way and that around him in the dark, for the source of the voice, but no one was visible.

"And they don't know." The voice continued. Sands stopped, looking behind him. Still no one in sight. "And do you realize, Jenna White, although she's a bitch, was very right?" The voice asked.

"Right about what?" Sands asked outloud, his voice cracked and strained, as if he hadn't spoken in a long time.

"It's over, Sands. Your career. You've lost it, you're never going to be able to convince them, you're NOT crazy." The voice said, in a hard tone.

"I'm not crazy!" Sands snapped, turning back and starting to walk again. There was a fine mist in the air, which glowed orange from the street lights over him. He forced his steps to be purposeful, as if he had somewhere he needed to be. But he had no destination, except to escape the voices. And the cold. How could he have been stupid enough, not to be wearing a coat?

"Not crazy...really, ya could have followed me." The voice said. Sands groaned. He couldn't escape it, but he kept walking none the less.

"You were crazy when you tried to overdose on speed. You were crazier when you tried to slit your wrists. And you were at your craziest when you stood on the railing of that bridge, intent to throw yourself off!" The voice shouted.

"I'm not crazy!" Sands shouted, glaring angrily around him. "I'm not! I know I'm not!" His tone slowly softened and in a defeated voice he asked. "I'm not...am I?"

The voice chuckled. "Aww, baby blue." It said in a mock sympathetic voice. Then said as Sands stared at his reflection in the dirty window of the shop he was before. _"Tell me is something eluding you sunshine? Is this not what you expected to see? If you'd like to find out what's behind these cold eyes, you'll just have to claw your way through this disguise."_

Sands shut his eyes, shaking his head vigorously. "Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! SHUT UP!" He cried angrily at the voice. But all the voice did was start laughing, insanely at his attempts to stifle it's words. Sands let out an agonizing cry, looking all over the streets, before he took off running, in attempt to get away.

* * *

Sammy zipped up his jacket, looking around the street as he, Cerise and Sarah stood there in the cold, looking in all directions. "Where would he go?" Sarah asked, looking at them. "Home maybe?" 

Cerise shook her head. "No...not back to the apartment."

Sarah looked nervously around. "We've got to find Jeff!" She said desperately.

"We'll...drive around, maybe we can catch sight of him." Sammy said, taking the keys to his car out of his pocket. Neither Cerise or Sarah could think of anything better, so they nodded and followed Sammy to his mustang.

As Sammy pulled out, Cerise in the passenger seat next to him, Sarah in the back, he spoke softly, to Cerise. "Cerise, now that it's just you, me and Sarah. There's something we need to talk about." Sammy said, looking in the review mirror at Sarah, who had visibly paled and was shaking her head no, with wide eyes.

"What?" Cerise asked, looking at Sammy, then at Sarah in the back seat. She was confused, by all of this with Sammy and Sarah.

"Sammy, NO!" Sarah exclaimed apprehensively. "You can't tell her!"

"Tell me what!" Cerise demanded, looking back and forth between them.

Sammy ignored Cerise for a moment, speaking to Sarah in a rigid tone. "Officer Darcy, at this moment, Cerise has a right to know! This involves her, as much as us."

Sarah flung herself back against the seat, staring out the window, tears collecting in her eyes. "It's hard enough on her as it is, you wanna make it harder!" Sarah snapped, looking back at Sammy with hard eyes.

"It's going to be much harder on her if she DOESN'T know!" Sammy snapped, glancing at Sarah through the review mirror as he sped along the streets.

"WHAT!" Cerise cried angrily. "Tell me WHAT!"

Sarah squeaked in the back street and glared at Sammy. Sammy sighed. "Cerise, darlin' there's a chance...that this isn't...Jeff's fault."

"What!" Cerise struggled to make sense. "I don't get what you're saying..."

Sammy sighed as he turned a corner. "I don't know the details, so I can't tell you the details. I just know that it's incredibly possible that Jeff's...break down, may not be his own doing."

Cerise rolled her eyes, in a frustrated way. "Mental break downs usually aren't your own doing!"

"That's not what I meant, Cerise. I meant...Okay, Cerise you know that Jeff used to do a LOT of psychological work for the company..." Sammy said, glancing in her direction.

"Yeah..." Cerise answered softly, looking at him.

"Then it's extremely possible, this is some psychological work gone bad..." Sammy said in the gentlest way he could put it.

"Medication gone bad..." Sarah muttered from her spot, staring out the window, but neither Cerise nor Sammy could make out the words, because at that moment, Sammy was slamming on the breaks and hitting the horn hard as something darted in front of the car, out of sight of the headlights. Cerise caught herself on the dash board, looking through the windshield. Sarah caught herself on the back of Cerise's seat, looking up at the review mirror, where Sammy's angry eyes were reflected back, glaring at her. Sarah shrugged in a defiant manor, sitting back.

* * *

_"I've always been mad, I know I'm mad...Like most of us have. They have to explain why you were mad, even if you're not mad."_ Sands muttered, as he walked hurriedly along, breathing hard. His breath appeared before him in puffs of steam at each inhale and exhale. 

He stopped a moment, under an orange street light, marvel at it as if it was the first time he'd ever seen it. He held up his hand in front of his face and exhaled, watching the little cloud that quickly disappeared. "Humph, imagine that." He muttered to himself with little humor.

The voice that had been followed him, sneered hatefully, before saying, _"If you should go skating, on the thin ice of modern life, dragging behind you the silent reproach, of a million tear stained eyes, don't be surprised, when a crack in the ice, appears under your feet. You slip out of your depth and out of your mind, with your fear flowing out behind you, as you claw the thin ice."_

Sands shuddered violently a moment, as if the cold had finally hit him. "I don't want to claw thin ice..." He muttered, before picking up his resolve and began walking again. But the innocent side of Sands insanity, was slowly dissolving.

And he soon wasn't alone...

He stopped on a corner under one of the street lights, looking up and down the street. Two prostitutes stood there as well, and both eyed him. Sands flashed them a quirky grin, before looking up and down the street again, as if looking for someone. "Aren't ya cold sugar?" One of the night ladies asked.

"What?" Sands looked at her slightly confused.

"I asked if you were cold." She repeated her question. He stared at her for a few moments, blinking, then shook his head, turning his head away. "No." he answered.

She was a leggy blonde, her clothes, despite the cold, were revealing, and to this end, she answered. "I am." She said, stepping closer.

Sands looked over at her from staring down the street, with a raised eyebrow and an amused look in his eyes. She didn't see the other look behind the amusement, the dark, dangerous look. "Really?"

"yeah." She said with a saucy grin. "Care to do something about it?"

"Maybe." Sands answered, slipping his hands, with their bandaged wrists in his jean pockets.

"What's your name, handsome?" The woman asked.

Sands was silent two moments, before answering. "Pink. What's yours?"

"Kelly. You're name is really Pink?" she asked with an arched false eyebrow.

Sands gave a grin, half charming, half sheepish. "Yeah, Pink. My parents were hippy freaks obsessed with music. I got a brother named Rolling Stones and a sister called Beatles..." He got a laugh out of the other girl.

Kelly gave him a dark look, to which Sands replied, "Just Pink, sugar butt."

"Alright, Pink...this way then." She nodded down a darkened alley, turning and starting down it, her heels the only sound. Sands watched her for a moment, before following. The other girl having moved off in the direction Sands had come. As he followed her, he hummed softly to himself, singing,

_"I am just a new boy._

_A stranger in this town. _

_Where are all the good times? _

_Who's gonna show this stranger around? _

_Ooooooooh I need a dirty woman. _

_Ooooooooh I need a dirty girl. _

_Make me feel like a real man."_


	3. One Of My Turns

Author's Note: We may have been completely crazy for this one. But it was to good to pass up...And yes, in the Blood Series, there will be more details of Sands' break downs, and the apparence and disapparence of his alter ego.

Thank you for the great reviews. This chapter is dedicated to Scarlett Burns, who had originally tossed the idea of the two personalities in a story together, back and forth with me. To Washie Demon, who's an excellent writing partner. And to **my** alter ego!

* * *

His head was throbbing, and sounds around him were slowly coming back into focus. He raised his hand gingerly to his head, and rubbing his forehead, feeling cold sweat. He squeezed his eyes tight, before attempting to open them.

When his eyes adjusted to the darkness, they widened. "Oh shit...oh shit...oh shit!" He muttered over and over again, before scrambling off the bed, into the wall behind him. The room was dark, but there was enough light for him to see in. And he didn't like what he saw.

He stared at the bed aghast, trying to piece together what had happened. There laying in the middle of the bed was the body of Kelly, the prostitute. And Sands was pretty sure she was dead. He stared, with out blinking, before he forced himself to move to the bed. He crawled onto it on his knees and over to Kelly's body. Her eyes were open and she was staring up at the cracked ceiling.

With a trembling hand, he reached over and touched Kelly's face. It was starting to go cold. He ran his fingers down her cheek, to her throat and felt for a pulse. It was then he noticed the lacerations on her neck. "Shit...shit.. shit!" He muttered, finding no pulse. He ran his fingers over her eyes, shutting them, and looked around the room quickly. As he went to move off the bed, his hand brushed something and he looked down.

A coil of nylon lay just under the covers. Sands wrapped his hand around it, pulling it out slowly. It was one of the nylon stockings Kelly had been wearing and Sands realized in a all to sickening way, that it had been what was used to strangle her.

"Well, you've done it now..." The voice said, in an I-Told-You-So tone.

"Done what!" Sands snapped back out loud. "I have DONE anything!"

"There's a dead prostitute, laying right there in front of you, Sands, and you're the only one here."

"That's not my fault!" Sands snapped back.

"Are you sure?" The voiced asked. "You ARE very capable of killing her with out a sound. You're an assassin. You're trained to kill in silence."

"I didn't kill her!" Sands snapped, defending himself. "I know I didn't..." He began to trail off. "I can't remember..." He whimpered desperately.

"That's right, you can't remember, so it's very possible that you did it."

"SHIT!" Sands swore, flinging himself off the bed. He looked wildly around the room. Then a second voice in his head spoke. And Sands knew this one. It was his own, his calm, collected self.

"Take a deep breath, Sands." He commanded himself. Sands shut his eyes and breathed deeply, standing straighter.

"Right." He muttered to himself, keeping himself calm. "Destroy evidence. Remove fingerprints. Check of any other sign you were here." Sands snapped into action. He grabbed the bed sheet and ripped it off the bed. There was no blood, but after what he was sure they'd did, there was genetic evidence he'd been there.

He wadded up the sheet and tossed it into the corner for now. Leaving the corpse in the bed, he turned his back on it and headed into the small bathroom with out turning on the light. He scanned the small cracked room a moment, then grabbed a wash cloth off the side of the sink and used it to turn on the hot water. This wasn't the way he preferred to remove his finger prints, but it would have to do.

Using the now hot, sopping wet rag, he shut off the water and went back into the room. Quickly and silently he wiped down any surface he might have touched. He knew it was possible for a few of his hairs to be present, cause he could slightly remember Kelly grabbing his hair at some point and yanking hard. But he didn't have the time to clean the place like he would have wanted to. Tossing the now cold wet rag in the corner with the sheet, he tossed the nylons with them and quickly pulled on is clothes. He'd have to discard those at soon.

Pulling on his boots he jumped to his feet and grabbed the material from the corner, used the wet cloth to turn the doorknob and left the room. As he remembered, the door opened up into an alley. Sands paused in the shadow of the door way, to listen to the sounds around him. When he was confident there was no one, he scanned the alley. Spotting a plastic bag, he stuffed the sheet, nylons and wash cloth in side. He debated over tossing it in the dumpster, but decided to take it with him for now, until he could discard it properly.

He went down the alley in the opposite direction then the way Kerry had led him in. "You still fucked up." The nasty voice said. Sands rolled his eyes with a soft sigh. He'd demanded of himself to stay calm. He'd locked down all panic and all emotion. But the one thing he couldn't get rid of, was that nasty little voice.

"Now is NOT the time to argue about this." He muttered.

"No, of course not," He heard the voice reply in a sarcastic tone and Sands narrowed his eyes on the road, annoyed at this voice.

"Do you have a name, fucker?" He growled. He could actually feel the voice grinning wickedly at him.

"Yes." It answered.

"Well then WHAT the FUCK is it!" Sands snapped back.

"**Mort**." The voice answered.

Sands groaned, and fell back against the brick wall behind him. This could not be happening again! "I don't need this! I don't need this! Not now, fucking HELL! NOT NOW!" He snapped, before glancing around him again, listening carefully.

"Too late for that, **Pink**." Mort answered. Sands squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"YOU are supposed to be GONE!" Sands muttered.

"Funny how that seems to work, eh?" Mort answered. "You can't REALLY get rid of a split personality. Didn't you ever listen to Dr. Morrison."

"That's what the pills were for!" Sands snapped.

Mort sighed. "**Pink**, my friend. I've hidden in the back of your subconscious for nearly ten years now. Do you have any idea what that's like? It's dark and scary in there!"

Sands pushed himself away from the wall and started walking again. "Look, Mort, we can discuss the decorating tips LATER." Sands snapped.

"Right," Mort agreed. "Right now, **Pink**, I think the best thing is to dump the shit."

"Yeah, that was the idea." Sands muttered, straining his ears to hear everything around him.

While he walked, he thought about all this. He was still unsure if he had killed the whore or not, but he wasn't about to ask Mort. Sands wanted nothing better, then to wake up from this nightmare, and to have only dreamed his alter ego had returned. He wanted to pinch himself and wake up in Cerise's arms.

When Sands had been in his freshman year of high school, he'd mentally snapped from the extreme pressure of his home life, trying to keep his grades up and fight his mother to remain up north with his father, after he'd run away from the eleven years she'd had him in Texas. And when he'd snapped, he'd snapped good. A second personality had surfaced. A decidedly crazier personality. One who jumped off dames in to nearly frozen lakes. One who played chicken in his first car durning rainy nights. One who even played Russian Runlet with a loaded pistol and nearly blown his own brains out. This personality called himself Mort and for eight months, was the only friend Sands had. Mort had helped give Sands the nick name of **Pink**, from Sands favorite band, Pink Floyd.

But as the months went by, Mort slowly grew crazier, and more often took over Sands' dominate personality. Where the teenage Sands had been intelligent, thoughtful, an artist and musician, Mort had been eccentric, sarcastic and cynical, roguish. Sands' father finally had enough and stuck his youngest son in a mental hospital for two months. While in there, Doctor Morrison, who became Sands' psychiatrist had put him on a tranquilizer, which had succeeded in killing most of Mort off. Or so Sands had hoped.

While Sheldon Jeffrey Sands had been able to get his split personality disorder under controll, finish high school in a some what normal way, go on to the Air Force and college and finally enter Camp Swampy to become the agent he was now, Mort had simply bided his time. Sands had never truly been free of him and the man should have known that. Sands had turned from a loner artist kid, to an eccentric and dangerous adult.

But now with Sands on the verge of another mental break down, Mort had broken free of his mental prison. And he was determined to have a bit of fun with Pink again, before he got locked up again. And it started with the mind games of making Sands believe he'd killed that prostitute, although Mort was very sure, Sands hadn't, and Mort sure as hell hadn't either. So eventually, they'd have to find out who it had been. As Sands walked down the dark streets, Mort began to sing softly,

_" And I can feel one of my turns coming on.  
I feel cold as razor blade  
Tight as a tourniquet  
Dry as a funeral drum,  
Run to the bedroom, in the suitcase on the left  
You'll find my favourite axe  
Don't look so frightened  
This is just a passing phase  
Just one of my bad days." _


	4. Hey You

Authors Note: We didn't forget about this. Time has just been so busy. Anyway, Chapter 4. Mort's getting fun...Sands is getting crazier...

* * *

Sands set out at a hard stride, heading towards the west side of the town, intent to dump the bag somewhere there. The steps were angry, each time his foot went down, it was hard and pushing. He'd had just about enough of Mort's shit and he didn't need any of this. He needed to get back to himself. He needed to clear up this entire mess, before something else happened. Before he lost his job. Before he lost Cerise. He attempted to drive Mort's little song out of his mind, with one of his own, muttering it under his breath as he walked.

_"I don't need no walls around me.  
And I don't need no drugs to calm me.  
I have seen the writing on the wall.  
Don't think I need any thing at all.  
No. Don't think I need anything at all._

_All in all it was all just the bricks in the wall.  
All in all it was all just the bricks in the wall._"

"Yeah, we saw how well the drugs worked, didn't we..." Mort muttered boredly.

"Do us a favor...shut the fuck up." Sands growled, turning down a side street, several blocks away from the little room with the dead hooker.

"I'd rather talk to you." Mort retorted.

"I don't want anything to do with your ass! Not any more. You ruined my life once, I wont let you do it again!" Sands snapped, opening a dumpster and tossing the bag in.

"What is this!" Mort asked angrily. "We were friends once! What's happened?"

"You! Trying to get me killed in some fucked up crazy way! I don't NEED that now!"

_Hey you,  
Out there in the cold,  
Getting lonely, getting old,  
Can you feel me?  
Hey you,  
Standing in the aisle,  
With itchy feet and fading smile,  
Can you feel me?  
Hey you,  
Don't help them to bury the light.  
Don't give in without a fight.  
_

"I suppose this has to do with HER, doesn't it..." Mort asked in an irritated tone.

"With who?" Sands demanded.

"Your _Cherry_..." Mort sneered. "She'll break your heart and leave you just to die, just like that...that bitch of an ex wife you have, did! All women are the same, better off used and left..." Mort snapped angrily

"You don't know Cerise...not the way I do." Sands responded strongly.

_Hey you,  
Out there on your own,  
Sitting naked by the phone,  
Would you touch me?  
Hey you,  
With your ear against the wall,  
Waiting for someone to call out,  
Would you touch me?  
Hey you,  
Would you help me to carry the stone?_

_**Open your heart, I'm coming home.  
**_

"Yeah, and why's this one so fucking special?" Mort demanded.

"I don't think I have to explain it to you." Sands responded.

"Do you love her!"

"YES!"

Mort fell silent as Sands left the alley and headed off towards the park. Sands could feel Mort's confusion, as he walked. And Sands was glad of this. If Mort didn't know, or understand, he didn't deserve to. He didn't need to know what Cerise ment to Sands. What Sands would do for her. She was the one thing in Sands' life that meant anything.

But Mort's silence didn't last to long and suddenly Mort grumbled sarcastically,

_"But it was only fantasy.  
The wall was too high, as you can see.  
No matter how he tried he could not break free.  
And the worms ate into his brain._"

"You don't listen when I tell you to fuck off, do you?" Sands murmured as he entered the park. He dropped on to a park bench in the darkness, digging a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it.

"Why should I? It's just you and me, kiddo." Mort replied.

"WHY?" Sands demanded, taking a long draw.

"Why what?" Mort questioned.

"Why are you even here?"

"Well, I think that can be summed up simply. You're a fucking nutcase, Pink, my friend. After every thing your mo..."

"Don't, don't even finish that sentence, or I'll cut you out of me, my self!" Sands sneered in a dangerous tone.

Mort was surprised. He blinked several times. "I was just being...honest..."

"Honesty'll get you killed, Mort, old pal." Sands hissed, tapping the ashes off his cigarette and looking around in the darkness.

"After everything we've been through, you're going to treat me like this?" Mort demanded.

"I'll get rid of you, one way or the other, Mort. So you might as well do us both a favor and leaving willingly!"

_Hey you,  
Out there on the road,  
Always doing what you're told,  
Can you help me?  
Hey you,  
Out there beyond the wall,  
Breaking bottles in the hall,  
Can you help me?  
Hey you,  
Don't tell me there's no hope at all.  
**Together we stand, divided we fall.  
**_

"I've got some news for ya, boy'o," Mort started, but Sands cut him off again.

"I'm not your boy'o, so just go the fuck away already"

Mort finally snapped and got angry. "No, you listen to me, Sheldon Jeffrey Sands! You may not have killed that girl back there, but some one sure as hell did, and while you were in there! And now you and me, we're in this one together, Pink! It's one big fucking mess! A bad script! Just REALLY bad writing! And if we don't find out why, or who did it, you're going to lose everything in your life, INCLUDING Cerise! Together we stand, divided we fall!"

Sands blinked, startled but Mort's tone, and the ring of truth in it all. Swallowing, Sands found his voice. "If we do this, and find out who it was, THEN will you leave me alone!"

Mort sighed irritably, "Yes, I'll leave you the fuck alone, to your own devises and what not..."

"Thank you!' Sands snapped, looking around again. "We've got to go find that friend of hers...the other prostitute."

"Good plan junior..." Mort replied, still in an irritated tone.


End file.
